Broken Fences
by Eydie Munroe
Summary: When Kathryn leads her 'lost sheep' out on a mission despite Chakotay's suggestion to release them of duty, it becomes the final straw between them. Written for VAMB's 2014 Secret Summer challenge.
1. Chapter 1

**Broken Fences  
>By Eydie Munroe<strong>

Disclaimer: The cast, crew, writers and probably caterers on Star Trek: Voyager belong to Paramount and/or CBS. I don't know why – it's not like they play with them anymore. Hmmm…maybe there's some room for negotiation here…?

Author's Note: This was written for VAMB'S 2014 Secret Summer Exchange. The request from Mizvoy: _"I would like story that is an addition to the episode 'Good Shepherd.' It should focus on the J and C friendship/relationship and can be from J or C's perspective or from someone from the senior staff or lower decks."_

Thanks as always to the amazing Hester for the beta. Enjoy!

* * *

><p><span><em>Kathryn:<em>

I've woken up in this position far too many times in my life – consciousness just coming back to me while someone hovers over me with a worried expression. It started with Mom, and sometimes Dad, when I was sick or had hurt myself in some ill-advised childhood adventure. Then the last time, after Tau Ceti, I woke up to Mom's tearful eyes and trembling chin, my groggy mind watching her do everything in her power to hold it together as she clutched my hand and stiltingly told me that Daddy and Justin were gone – explaining that Starfleet had retrieved what was left of our ship, and that there had been no hope of resuscitating them. Even with her husband gone, she was soldiering on, making sure that I was being supported as I learned the horrible truth.

The last few years though, it's been two others that I usually find in these situations. One is the EMH, a hologram who could annoy the stars out of the sky if he tried hard enough. The other is the face coming in blurry focus before me now. In the past, it would almost be frantic with worry as to whether or not I'd wake up, but today the concern only shows in his eyes, his features schooled perfectly into resolute control. Sometimes I wonder if Chakotay stands there, wishing for me to pull through just because he's hoping like hell he'd never have to inherit my job. But even after these months since the Equinox, where we've struggled to find our footing again, I know better. He may not care about me like he used to, but if he didn't at all, he wouldn't be here.

His form is still fuzzy until my eyes involuntarily flutter, and he becomes clearer. Then I suddenly remember why I'm here. My flight or fight response kicks in, and I sit up to look for my team. "My crew!"

"Easy," he tells me, his hand on the back of my arm to keep me steady. Then he informs me that they're all there, sleeping, and that Voyager found us unconscious and floating above the gas giant. As he fills me in and then asks me what happened, there's a certain amount of disinterest in his face.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, I tell him, "The good shepherd went after some lost sheep, and ran into a wolf."

His expression doesn't change. "Did she find them?"

Memories of my time with those three misfits flood back to me, and even with all the frustration that came with them, so did a certain amount of pride in that they eventually managed to pull together in the end. As my gaze falls on Harren's sleeping form I know that, at least in the short term, I stirred something in them that had previously been ignored. "I think she did," I murmur, feeling just a little bit better knowing they're safe.

_Chakotay:_

As I gaze down at her, it occurs to me that she's delusional. Not because of any lingering aftereffect of her injuries, but because she really does think that she's magically reached them after B'Elanna, the Doctor, and even I haven't been able to make any progress with them in the last five years. And it's not as if she'd never heard of them before – I know I've mentioned them to Kathryn more than once – but only when Seven of Nine and her smug little efficiency analysis brought them to the captain's attention did she finally listen.

I hate that Borg some days.

It certainly didn't help afterward that Kathryn slapped down my suggestion of relieving Tal, Harren and Telfer of duty, her comment about them not being Borg drones particularly stinging. It's not like I made that suggestion lightly, but in my capacity as the personnel manager around here, I thought that maybe it was for the best. And it has certainly made me skeptical of her blind ambition of 'bringing them into the fold', knowing that it was spurred by a naiveté that comes from her lack of interaction with them, and the fact that I probably have shielded her from the majority of their daily issues.

I wonder what's changed between us. I used to be head over heels in love with her, and when we'd find ourselves in this situation, there'd be a wave of relief that would wash over me when she'd finally open her eyes. But today the only relief I feel is that, for at least one more day, I won't have to lead this crew home.

And that scares the hell out of me.

Kathryn turns back to face me again, her expression puzzled. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I lie quickly – easily – not wanting to reveal my melancholy mood. With sincerity I don't feel, I tell her, "I'm just glad you're alright."

She smiles at me. "Thanks."

All I want to do is get out of here. My attitude must be worse than I thought. "Get some rest," I say, giving her a nod before I head out into the corridor. I pause once I'm out of earshot, heaving a heavy sigh. I can't let this feeling get the better of me.

_Kathryn:_

I watch him go, and I'm confused. He's very aloof, and that's not I would associate with him lately. Something tells me that if I hadn't ended up in Sickbay, I wouldn't have seen him at all today.

"Ah, Captain!" The EMH comes into my field of vision, a chipper smile on his face. "How are you feeling?"

My eyes slide closed a moment as I take stock of my body. "I've got a headache the size of a warp core, but I'm alright." I then ask the question he expects. "When can I get out of here?"

His eyes roll, and for a moment I wonder just why his creator added that feature to his programming. "It astounds me that that's always the first question you ask," he snipes as he reaches for a hypospray.

It makes me smile. It's only when he gets overly kind that I know something is really wrong. "I've got a ship to run," I tell him in a tone that I know will irritate him further. It's a strange game we play.

"Yes, well you can let the commander run it for a little longer." He injects analgesic into my neck, then runs the detachable scanner from his tricorder over me. "You sustained a severe concussion and partial asphyxiation due to microfractures that the Flyer sustained. We nearly lost you because while you'd held your own when you first arrived here, your circulatory system seemed to collapse just as soon as I stabilized your crewmates. A near-death experience earns you at least another twelve hours in my Sickbay for observation."

_ Oh goody._ "That will give me a chance to catch up on my reports."

The Doctor snaps the tricorder shut and glares down at me. "No, it will give you a chance to sleep – something that you do entirely too little of." Then his expression softens. "Let the rest of us take care of things for a while," he tells me before he walks away.

Before he's even gone, my eyes feel heavy. I can't help but wonder if the painkiller was laced with a sedative. Or maybe it's just age and my abused body catching up with me and overriding my usual will to overpower infirmity. But as I fall asleep, I can't help but see Chakotay's face, and the indifference I saw there bothers me.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chakotay:_

"Hey, Chakotay!"

I turn to find B'Elanna hurrying to catch up with me as I head toward the turbolift. She's dressed in casual wear, her hair uncommonly pulled back from her face. "Where are you off to?"

"Just getting ready to go for a run," she says as she takes the last steps to reach me. "I haven't been able to get one in for nearly a week. Wanna join me?"

The stress of the last couple of days, not knowing where the Flyer was, then Kathryn nearly dying in Sickbay a few hours ago, unexpectedly catch up with me. "That's not a bad idea," I tell her. "Just let me get changed."

Rather than offer to meet me at the holodeck, she tags along as I step into the lift. "How's the captain?" she asks. Obviously it's common knowledge that the doctor called me down when the captain regained consciousness. Tom probably told her as soon as I left the bridge.

"Awake," is all I say as I stare at the wall in front of me.

I can feel her eyes on me. "That's all? Awake? What happened with the three misfits?"

Man, did that name stick to them fast. "She didn't really give me any details, but it sounds like she managed to get something out of them after all."

She laughs. "Well, chalk one up for her. Kahless knows none of us were ever able to do that." But while she finds it funny, I really don't, and she notices. "What?"

The doors of the lift open and we move out into the corridor, naturally in step as we head to my quarters. Once we're inside, I tell her to have a seat, and head into the bedroom to change. "How's the Flyer?" I ask, trying to deflect her.

"Pretty good, actually." Her voice is muffled by the wall, and by my shirt as I pull it off over my head. "The microfractures that caused the air loss managed to self-seal within a few seconds, but there was an error with the environmental controls, which is why the oxygen levels in the cabin never rose back to normal. Vorik and Nicoletti are brainstorming ideas on how to keep that error from happening again."

The rest of my uniform drops off my hips and falls to the deck, and I step out and bend down to pick it up. But then I hear her voice again, much more clearly this time. "Are you going to answer my question?"

B'Elanna's leaning against the doorway, arms folded over her chest with a smile on her face as she looks at me. Standing there in my underwear, I shake my head. She used to do this when we were in the Maquis, trying to throw me off balance when she felt that I was lost too deeply in my own thoughts. I also think that it was because she'd been trying to sneak a peek when Seska wasn't around. "What's the matter, Torres – Paris not enough for you?" I tease as I go to hang up my jumpsuit.

"Just keeping you on your toes," she laughs as she sits on the foot of my bed. "Now what's going on with you? You've been pretty quiet the last few days."

"I'm fine." I close the door to the wardrobe and walk back around the bed to the dresser.

"Bullshit," she says, though not with the venom that usually accompanies that statement.

She's not wrong. With a sigh, I turn back and face her, still holding the t-shirt that I just grabbed from the drawer. "You're right," I eventually say. "I've been feeling off for a while now." Bored. Undervalued. Wanting something different but not knowing what that is. "Frustrated, I guess is the best way to put it."

"How come?"

It takes me a few moments to find the words to describe it. "There are days that I feel like I'm talking to the walls around here. Like everybody nods and smiles, but no one listens to a word I say."

"Anyone in particular?" she asks.

I debate whether I should answer that or not. There's always only so far that I'll go with B'Elanna – usually to protect the privacy of the people involved, and much to my own detriment. "Yes…" Her eyes light up in anticipation. "But I can't tell you."

In a flash, she grabs the uniform shirt that I'd dropped on the bed earlier and chucks it at my head. "You are such a tease!" she growls, but there's laughter behind it because she understands exactly why my answer is what it is. We both laugh, and then she suggests, "Maybe you need a change of scenery," as I sit down beside her. "I could always use an extra pair of hands during the warp coil refit."

"Right. That's just what you need – an anthropologist in Engineering." The laughter is back again, but then I add, "Besides, the captain's always willing to help you out."

She shrugs. "Sometimes it helps to have a different perspective." Her amusement trails off, and she looks at me as though she knows my trouble. "Nothing like feeling useless, is there?"

"Or disregarded," I say with a sigh.

Now it's her turn to nod – she has certainly been here before – and I guess I've just confirmed what she'd suspected. B'Elanna's always been perceptive that way, and despite all evidence to the contrary, she's always been the one to hold my secrets, more than anyone else of late. "I don't think that's true," she says softly. "I think she does listen to you. It's just that for some repairs, it takes a different tool to achieve the same result."

I lean forward, elbows resting on my knees as my hands clasp together, looking at the carpet as she speaks. "Sometimes I wonder whether this tool fits in the toolbox anymore."

"Have you talked to her about this?"

I haven't talked to Kathryn about anything of great consequence over the last while, unless it's ship's business. We seem to do alright as long as we skim the surface, never delving deep into feelings or involved conversations, and while we still may chat and joke around and have dinner once in a while, the relationship we had before is gone. Though maybe it's just me; for the last few months, I've been getting more disenchanted with my job with every day, every mission, every injury. Some of the things we've all gone through lately have been incredibly taxing. "No," I tell B'Elanna. "I haven't."

"It sounds like you need to, Chakotay. If you let her know how you feel, maybe she can help." She sees me hesitate, and adds, "If you don't, it's only going to get worse."

She's right. It's a conversation I don't want to have, but I don't think I have a choice. Giving my friend a small smile, I tell her, "We'll see."

"Now get dressed," she tells me as she stands and starts heading for the door, "and we'll see if you can beat me at the Klarg'then Trail."


	3. Chapter 3

_Kathryn:_

Every time I come back to the bridge after an extended time away, it almost feels brand new again. The sounds and the scents are familiar, but it always just seems to look a little bit different, like my memories of it are somehow slightly altered because I haven't seen it for a while. I suppose it's true of anything. If I ever make it back to my mother's house, I'm sure that in reality, it will be a lot different than I remember it.

"Captain on the bridge."

I look up and see Harry smiling at me, with that pride that he always wears when he sees me coming back after an injury. I'll never tell him, but there are days when his enthusiasm is the only thing that keeps me going. I thank him, and then turn to face the rest of the crew. "It's good to be back." _Even though it's well after noon and that medical tyrant wouldn't let me out until half an hour ago_.

As usual, Chakotay is standing before his chair, waiting for me to come down and meet him. "Report."

"We're cruising at Warp Five," he tells me as we sit down. "All systems working at top efficiency, and the Doctor has announced all crew to be in the peak of health."

I smile inwardly. He's telling me, without saying their names, that Tal, Telfer and Harren have been released from Sickbay – which of course I already knew, because they were gone before I woke up this morning. "Thank you, Commander." I pull up the current readings on the console between us to confirm the ship's status, and for once, everyone's reports are in on time. "Everything here looks good," I tell him quietly. "I should leave you in charge more often." He doesn't say anything, but out of the corner of my eye, I see him look away from me and fix his eyes on the viewscreen, and I'm starting to get the same feeling that I did in Sickbay. "Everything alright, Chakotay?"

"Fine, Captain." He gives me a smile, but I know it's just a cover.

Truth be told, he's been on my mind since he left Sickbay yesterday. Not in an alarming way, but in that something between us is just off. Leaning over toward him and lowering my voice even further, I ask, "Do you have plans for tonight?"

Finally tearing himself away from the starfield, he looks at me with a slightly put-on interest. "What did you have in mind?"

"Dinner in my quarters," I suggest. "My treat."

Before he can answer, Ensign Kim announces, "Captain, sensors are picking up a fleet of ships half a light year directly ahead."

"Confirmed," Tuvok adds. "Fifteen ships…comparable in size and armaments to Voyager."

Fantastic – that's all we need. "Onscreen."

The screen shifts to a magnified view, which shows plain, grey triangular ships flying in a V formation. "A border patrol?" I hear Chakotay ask.

"It makes sense," Paris replies. "According to the last charts we obtained, we moved out of Brunali space five days ago."

Just the mention of Icheb's homeworld makes me cringe inside. _Heartless bastards._ I automatically check myself, knowing that what they did was out of desperation, but it doesn't make me feel any less angry toward them. "Well, let's find out who they are," I order as I get to my feet. "Open a channel."

"Channel open."

The butterflies in my stomach that always come with a first contact make themselves known, but I push them down. "This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship Voyager."

The screen changes views almost immediately, showing us a pair of squat, purplish beings wearing the most ridiculous headdresses I've ever seen. "We are the Mok-ral," they chorus together in a most unusual harmony. "Why are you approaching our border?"

I involuntarily glance at Chakotay. Right as usual. "We are travelling to our home on the other side of the galaxy, and we were hoping to obtain permission to cross through your territory."

"It is an unusual request," the one on the left states. "Most smart beings know to avoid this area."

"I'm afraid we have no knowledge of your space," I try, hoping that they won't be the typical type of obstinate species that we've run across so many times in this quadrant. "Would it be possible to get some information from you on this region?"

"This area is filled with subspace mines," the being on the right tells us, "left over from the Kristosien War."

"They're several centuries old," his companion adds, "but still quite dangerous."

"Then perhaps you could provide us with a map so we can safely navigate around it?" I ask, wishing that they would just be straightforward already.

The first Mok-ral consults a computer screen, and then I hear beeping coming from Tuvok's station. "We are receiving a transmission of stellar charts," he tells me as he works his console.

"This will be our last interaction with you," the other alien tells us. "If you choose to enter this area, it will be at your own risk."

Well, at least they're not going to shoot at us. "Understood. Thank you for the information."

They cut the transmission, and we see their ships split off and pass by either side of us as they leave. "Friendly bunch, aren't they?" Tom mutters as he swivels around to look at me.

I fix him with a look. "I'll take indifference over disruptors any day." Turning back to Tuvok, I order, "Put their map up on screen."

It shows a large area of space, about sixteen light years wide and two deep, filled with slowly moving targets. "There are a large number of active mines," Harry reports, "but the area is also filled with twice as many inert objects."

"Probably as barriers to force ships into the active ordinances," Chakotay suggests.

Exactly what I was thinking. "What's the distance between each?" I ask.

"Half a million kilometres," Tuvok adds. "Each target is moving at a rate of forty thousand kilometres per second."

"Doesn't leave much room for error," my first officer says.

"Tom, what's the time to fly around it versus safely through it?" I ask.

_Chakotay:_

God, I hope she's not serious! My gut clenches, and I fear that the captain's going to want to take the supposedly shorter, but incredibly dangerous route through this minefield. I can see the gears turning in her mind, and I pray that this isn't another instance where she decides on the larger risk just to save time.

Fortunately, Paris saves me the argument. "At warp six, it would be about two weeks to go around," he tells her, "but to go through, we wouldn't be able to do more than half impulse."

I do the calculations in my head. Sublight speed means it would take twenty years to cross, and that's not accounting for swerving to miss mines. Seeing that she's already worked out the same results faster than I have, it's no surprise when she orders, "Set a new course to circumnavigate this minefield. Warp eight."

Cutting our travel time to roughly five days. Thank the Spirits.

"Aye, Captain. Course laid in."

"Engage."

After she gives the order, she returns to her seat, and I find myself following automatically. But I'm unsettled. My first instinct was that she was going to put the ship in danger, and it never used to be that way. I've always trusted Kathryn's decisions, even if I didn't agree with them in the moment. And now it's either paranoia or apathy that's making me start to question her, preparing for a fight because I think she'll once again summarily dismiss my suggestions, like with the Nakan memorial or with her 'lost sheep'. It's been happening too much lately, and it's starting to distract me.

"Chakotay?"

Case in point…I haven't heard her calling me. I turn to face her, seeing her again leaning toward me with a now-fading grin on her face. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I asked you if you'd like to join me for dinner," she repeats, a slight frown creasing her brow.

I've had my doubts about this, but I think I need to take B'Elanna's advice. "That sounds good."


	4. Chapter 4

_Chakotay:_

At 1930, I leave to head over to Kathryn's quarters, a bottle of wine in my hand. Just as I reach for the chime, the doors open to let Mortimer Harren back into the corridor. I can feel my eyes widening – of all the people on Voyager, he's certainly the last person I expected to see here.

"Commander," he greets me as he slips past, with more courtesy than I've ever seen from him.

"Mister Harren." I watch him go, completely puzzled.

"Come in, Chakotay, before you let all the bugs in."

Her words are echoes of those that I used to chide her with on New Earth. She would leave the door of our shelter wide open as she'd haul in research equipment every night, admitting a litany of insects that were a huge nuisance as we tried to sleep. Funnily enough though, none of the bugs we ever got stuck with were the elusive biter that stranded us there.

"I'm feeling lucky tonight," I hear her say, bringing me back to the present. She's standing at the replicator, a hand resting lightly on the console as she graces me with a bright smile. "B'Elanna took pity on her captain while I was away and completely refitted my replicator. What do you say we test it out?"

I can't help but laugh. "Trying to tempt fate?"

"No, just to have a dinner that isn't burned, melted or the exact opposite of what I asked for." She gestures for me to sit down, and orders, "Asparagus cashew rice pilaf and roasted vegetables for two."

We both watch with a morbid curiosity as the dish starts to materialize on the pad, waiting for liquid to start pouring off its front or for smoke to fill the room. But nothing disastrous happens, and instead, the sparkling blue light fades to reveal an appetizing dish that actually smells delicious. "Well I'll be damned…" she breathes, stopping herself just before she touches the dishes and instead grabbing a couple of potholders.

"I guess there's a first time for everything," I say, pouring out the wine as she sets the dishes down on the table.

She clucks her tongue. "We'll see how long it lasts."

As we dig in, I bring her up to date on what happened on Voyager while she was away. Not only did B'Elanna overhaul the captain's replicator, but Tuvok reviewed Seven's findings and decided against her recommendation to reorganize the weapons lockers. "He told me that 'the arrangement has been working satisfactorily for the past five years, so it would be a waste of resources to assign personnel to design new phaser rifle placements'."

Shaking her head, Kathryn chuckles. "Well, he is the expert."

Then she starts to tell me everything that happened on the Flyer, and how she hopes that, at least in the short term, she may have helped boost their confidence and perhaps bring them a little more out of their shells. She ends her tale with, "Though I didn't expect to see one of them again so soon."

Harren. "What brought him by here anyway?"

"Before we headed out on the Flyer, I offered to help him with his efforts to disprove Shlezholt's Theory," she says as she reaches for her wine glass. "Mostly, just to throw him off balance when I'd told him about the mission. I guess he decided to take me up on it." She takes a sip, then adds, "He stopped by to give me the data he already has."

While I'm no cosmologist, I've certainly heard of Shlezholt's Theory. "Not exactly light reading, is it?"

"No," she grins, "but if it helps bring Mister Harren back into Voyager's fold, I'm willing to put the time in."

"Why now?"

She frowns. "What do you mean?"

I asked the question without even realizing it, and I want to take the words back. But now that they're said, I press on. "This isn't the first time we've discussed Harren's issues, Kathryn. It's come up every time in his crew evaluation, even though you and I only saw it mentioned as part of B'Elanna's overall department report. So why are you only now taking such an interest in him? Because he was on Seven's inefficiency list?"

Kathryn stares at me. "Is that what's been bothering you? You think that I ignored the problem until she brought it up?"

My stare is unflinching. "Haven't you? I don't seem to remember you giving it two thoughts before now, but you've known he's been down there, hiding from the rest of the universe. And yet, when I suggest that maybe we should leave him and the others to their own pursuits, you accuse me of treating them like drones."

Her jaw drops at my allegation, which is made all the more vehement because the tone of those words from her still affects me. I can see her expression hardening, which is a sure sign that she's battening down her emotional hatches, and I can't let her get there. "Do you still value my opinion?"

My question stops her shutdown. "Do I value your opinion?"

Putting my fork down, I sit back in my chair. "Yes. Do you value my opinion?"

_Kathryn:_

I know he's been acting unusual lately, but this is out of left field. "After five years, why are you asking me this now?" I question.

Chakotay doesn't respond, but keeps watching me with an intensity that is unnerving. I really don't know why this is suddenly coming up. "Of course I do," I tell him, hoping to diffuse the situation. He still won't answer me, nearly immobile as he sits in the chair, watching me with a look that I don't think I've ever seen from him before. I can feel irritation starting to well up in me, and it takes everything to temper my voice when I challenge, "Why do you suddenly doubt that?"

"This isn't the first time," he finally says.

Now I'm confused. "What the hell are you talking about? Is this still about the Equinox?"

He shakes his head. "No, we're past that. But it's things like your decision to take those three out on the Flyer. I can barely get my opinions in before you're already dismissing them, without even listening to me."

Whatever control I've managed to have evaporates, and the anger starts to seep into my words. "So…what – I'm supposed to run all my command decisions by you now?"

"I didn't say that." Chakotay suddenly gets to his feet and moves a few paces away before turning back to face me. "But I can't do my job if you don't listen to me."

"I do listen to you."

"You didn't listen to me about the Nakan memorial!" he shoots back at me.

This makes me bristle, and I rise to my feet, my hands braced on the table. "Those people have every right to be remembered!"

"There are some things that don't need to be!" I can see that this has really hit a nerve for him. He seems to stop for a moment, more vulnerable than I've seen him in a long time. "I didn't see my family murdered, but I didn't need to see it to know it happened," he says quietly, his eyes boring into me. "And it doesn't make them any less gone."

His words stop me in my tracks. I was so traumatized by the flashbacks that I never even thought to consider that. My heart is racing, and I take a breath to slow down, knowing that we can't remain in this stalemate forever. As I stand there, trying to figure out what to say, something occurs to me. This can't just all be about a couple of incidents in recent history. As much as he'd like to make it my fault, there's something more at play here. "But that's not the reason you're mad at me now, is it?"

_Chakotay:_

My eyes snap back to find her still standing behind the table, hands on her hips as she challenges me. "What?"

"We've disagreed about my decisions before," she reminds me, "but this is different. It's personal."

My conversation with Seven when we were in the middle of the graviton ellipse suddenly leaps to mind. _They'd manage,_ I'd told her when she asked if I would seriously consider leaving Voyager to work as a paleontologist. _What I wanted always seemed to take a back seat._ Idle words to a child then, but they mean so much more now. Would Voyager manage without me? Would Kathryn?

Pulling in a deep breath, I agree with her. "You're right. It is different."

She now comes over to me, resting her fingers lightly on my arm. "Then what is it?"

I have to turn away, unable to face her when I say, "I feel like I'm unnecessary. You probably wouldn't even miss me if I left."

_Kathryn:_

Those words freeze my heart in my chest, and my hand draws back as if it's been burned. "You're not seriously considering that." He doesn't answer me, and the feeling only gets worse. "Are you thinking of leaving Voyager?"

"No," he replies, "but I'd be lying if I said that the thought never crossed my mind."

Of all the things in the universe he could say, that one puts a knife in me. All these years, I've dreamed about not having to be in command anymore, of not being responsible for all these lives. But not once – even during the Void – did I ever consider leaving Voyager just for the sake of it. To save the ship? Hell yes. But never because I was bored or dissatisfied. "So what are you telling me?" I challenge him. "That you're not happy with your job? With me?"

_Chakotay:_

Now there's a loaded question. "No, I'm not happy," I confirm. "I've done everything I can to make this work, but lately you've been taking me for granted."

I can see that this statement rankles her. "I may have done many things in my life," she growls, "but I have never done that."

"Really? How many times have we met about something – argued about it – and then you've gone off and done what you wanted anyway?"

"Those were my calls to make."

My feet start to take me away from her again. "I am so tired of that excuse, Kathryn! If you want to play things that way, fine. But don't bother to bring me in on something if you're just going to pay me lip service."

"Stop acting like some petulant child!" she spits back at me.

"No, you already have one of those." The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, but I'm not necessarily sorry about it. "I want your respect, Kathryn, and I've worked hard to earn it. But now…I don't think it's there anymore."

Now she's mad. "How am I supposed to respect you when you do things like put your crew at risk for a childhood fantasy?"

God, she'd chewed me out after that incident. Told me I should know better than to endanger the crew in pursuit of my own puerile interests. "And what did you do?" I throw back at her. "You held Kelly's funeral while I was still stuck in Sickbay, when you knew I had more interest in him than anybody else on this ship!"

_Kathryn:_

_And you deserved it!_ is the answer I want to hurl back at him. _You nearly got yourself killed!_ But I can't. I may think petty thoughts, but I certainly can't allow anyone else to know that I have them. "This ship does not stop functioning when you're out of commission, Chakotay. And we certainly couldn't keep a corpse lying around, waiting for you to get out of Sickbay."

"Four hours, Kathryn! I was released _four hours later_! The man had been dead for three hundred years already – what difference was four hours going to make?"

I've had just about enough of this pity party of his. "If you're so unhappy with your job, you should have said something. I'm not trying to make your life miserable."

He glares at me. "That's just it. You're not even trying." Without another word he departs, and silence fills the gulf he leaves behind.

How dare he? I don't know what his problem is, but why is it all my fault? Yeah, maybe I've been brusque with him this week, but it was important to me to try and make Billy and Celes and Harren feel like they're a part of this family. It was unacceptable to leave them to their own devices. And in my own defense, it worked. I'll lay bets that the Doctor doesn't see our resident hypochondriac for at least a few weeks.

I try to shake it off as I clean up what's left of our dinner, but our exchange continues to eat at me. It's unlike him to not say what's on his mind; if there's one thing that Chakotay's been good at, it's that. And it's not like we haven't had some good times over the last few months. So why this now? Does he think that he holds some sort of vaulted position around here? He gets access to me more than anybody else, but that doesn't mean he gets special privileges. Nor should he expect me to just genuflect to his wishes.

I grab the dish that holds the leftover risotto and throw it into the replicator's bay, hard enough that I hear the ceramic crack. Stabbing the button to recycle it, I stalk away, trying to turn over what happened in my mind. Let's back up a minute. When I wake up in Sickbay, he's distant. Even more so on the bridge the next day. We finally get to talk, and he pounces on me for not just my last decision, but for two more instances that happened a while ago. Tells me I've been ignoring him – hell, outright disrespecting him, though not in as many words. And it seems that he's been feeling this way for a while. So why hasn't he said anything?

Coffee will help me think. I head back to the replicator and order, "Coffee, black." The machinery starts to make an ungodly sort of banging sound, and whatever hope I have of coffee is dashed when the materialization finishes, leaving a puddle of chunky goo that even Neelix wouldn't drink. "Fucking replicator…" Deciding that maybe it's a sign, I quickly shut the lights off and head into the bedroom…not that there's any chance in hell I'll be able to sleep now. While I brush my teeth, I look up and see my reflection in the mirror, and a stray memory hits me that I haven't thought about in a long, long time.

When I was first officer on the Billings, there had been an incident in which we were playing cat and mouse with a pair of Cardassian warships who were way out of their territory and looking for a fight. They managed to severely disable our warp drive, and help was nearly two days away, if it had been coming at all. We'd transmitted our distress call just before communications were knocked out, so we had no idea whether Starfleet had received the message or not. With very few options, Captain Magrad decided to hide us inside an asteroid field while we tried to make repairs, knowing that the much larger cruisers couldn't follow us in without being destroyed. But I was severely opposed to the idea, thinking that we'd be much better off in a nearby emission nebula where they wouldn't be able to see us, though they would be able to follow us in if they wanted to.

It was the first time that we'd ever had a major disagreement since I arrived on board over a year before. I had great respect for Deirdre Magrad and her twenty-some years in the captain's chair, but in this instance, I thought she was risking our safety. And because our situation was so dire, me being me, I dug in and fought to try and get her to see my way. Truth be told, winning was the only objective I had, a glaring representation of my inexperience as an executive officer.

In end, she stuck to her guns, and we were able to remain holed up amongst the asteroids until a five-ship patrol finally came to our rescue. After the dust settled and the Cardassians retreated, she called me to her ready room, and it was not a pleasant experience. _"I appreciate that it's in your job description to question my decisions,"_ she told me as I stood ramrod straight in front of her desk, _"but beating me over the head with your suggestions is not the way to do it."_

_"But Sir, I–"_

_ "But nothing, Commander."_ She fixed me with a look that I'll never forget. _"Your job is to show me elements of a problem that I may not be seeing in the heat of the moment, but never forget that it is ultimately my call to make. I am the one that will answer to Starfleet, so it is _my_ decision."_ And then she dismissed me, leaving me the entire next day to stew in what had happened, and what I'd done without thinking things through. Fortunately, Captain Magrad and I never had an instance like that again, but I learned a valuable lesson that day about picking my battles. Maybe I would have eventually learned patience in that role, but I was only a first officer for a couple of years before I was offered the Bonestell.

As I stand here staring at my own reflection, it occurs to me how angry I was – both during the argument and afterward – because I'd felt that she'd dismissed my idea without giving it due consideration. Is this what Chakotay has been going through every time we butt heads? If I'm brutally honest with myself, he's right – I may have listened to what he had to say on the surface, but then I've gone ahead and decided what I think is best for this ship, and he's usually lost. He's been doing that job for a lot longer than I ever did, and if he feels even half of what I felt in that one incident, I now can see how his frustrations would add up. He's just very good at hiding them from me. Or at least he has been.

Shit.


	5. Chapter 5

_Chakotay:_

Sleep does not come easily tonight, and I toss and turn to no avail. Even the usual remedies I try when I can't sleep aren't working, my mind is so wound up from our argument. I went after her for her behaviour toward me of late, but I have no idea whether it's done any good…or worse, if it's made things even more difficult. Kathryn hasn't been listening to me, and I'm fooling myself if I think tonight is going to make any difference. She certainly didn't seem to act like it did.

It takes a couple of hours, but eventually I fall into a restless sleep, and find myself in a place I haven't been for a very long time. It's the cabin that I grew up in, and I immediately take a deep breath. As it always did, it smells of bread and a just-finished meal, lunch judging by the sunlight streaming in through the window. Motes of dust float through the air, and I can't help but smile as I remember what it was like to have a home – one filled with family and a life that's seemed to elude me.

_"So you've not left yet?"_

I turn around and find myself face to face with my mother, who's carrying a large gathering basket filled with plants harvested from the garden. _"Captain Sulu has been delayed until tonight," _I tell her as I reach to take the basket and carry it to the table for her. _"Then I'll be out of your hair."_

She chuckles as she leans down to take off her shoes. _"Oh, so that's what was weighing me down out there. I thought it was just the sun."_

Suddenly, something occurs to me. _"If it's going to be too awkward, I can find somewhere else to wait before Father comes home."_

With a shake of her head, she joins me at the table, and rests a hand on my face. _"Your father has gone to meet with Talking Wind and the council elders. He won't be back until very late this evening."_

The knot of tension that had appeared with the thought of having to face him one more time eases as she makes tea. My last fight with him was huge, one in which words were said that probably shouldn't have been. But he was just so damned stubborn. In that strange way that happens in dreams, I think about how stubborn people seem to be a common thread in my life, though of course I had no way of knowing that at the time I'm revisiting now.

I watch her in silence for a while as she moves about. Eventually I ask, _"Why does he have to be that way?"_

She brings the teapot over and sets it down between us. _"He thinks that he's protecting you."_

_"He refuses to acknowledge that there are things in life other than living on Trebus,"_ I point out as she sits across from me. _"I can't stay here forever."_

Reaching for the ever-present clay cups that rest against the wall, she says, _"Of course you can't. You are destined for something different than this tribe's way. But that doesn't make your father's feelings wrong, Chakotay."_

I feel my anger start to rise at just the idea of her defending him, but I refuse to transfer it to her, and it takes a lot of effort to keep it from seeping into my words. _"But he just refuses to see what's in front of him."_

_"Are you any different?"_ she calmly asks as she pours tea into two cups. _"As hard as he's trying to keep you here, you're pulling just as hard to get away. And the two strengths leave no middle ground."_

_"But Mother, I–"_

_ "But nothing!"_ she snaps in a rarely-heard tone, the pot coming down heavily on the table. It has the intended effect, and I find myself without words to say. She takes a moment to compose herself, then looks at me with eyes of steel that make her even more formidable than my father. _"Chakotay, you cannot go through life expecting everyone to see things your way. You must be flexible, and listen to those around you because they may have something to say that will be of value to you."_ Then her expression softens, and she reaches over and pats the hand that holds my cup. _"Stubbornness is a gift that runs in our family. And while it's too late for your father to change his ways, it's not too late for you."_ And then with a wicked grin, she sits back in her seat. _"Besides, I hardly think Starfleet will let you get away with that sort of behaviour for very long."_

A noise from out in the corridor wakes me suddenly, and I sit up with a start. While my pounding heart slows as the adrenaline rush passes, it occurs to me that I was dreaming, and I desperately try to hold onto whatever it was before it can dissipate. For once, the memory is clear, and I see my mother's face again as if she were in the room with me. It heartens me and saddens me at the same time; I never see my mother in my vision quests, and I miss her more than I can articulate. She was always a great source of wisdom, and a place of solace when I was a child. So when she shows up in my dreams, I know it's for a reason.

As I sit there and process the memory, it occurs to me that I was very stubborn then, because I believed so much that I was doing the right thing. My father and his opinions were not going to stand in the way of what I wanted. And with that observation, I realize that I was very much like Kathryn is now – focused on that one big goal, which will be accomplished come hell or high water, the feelings of others be damned. It almost makes me groan in shame when I realize that I've been just as unforgiving with her as Kolopak was with me. I thought I'd heeded my mother's words, but apparently I've forgotten that lesson.

My blame on Kathryn for my current state starts to waver a little. Like my mother said, I may have been pulling just as hard in the other direction, and that it's causing us to have no middle ground. Once that idea occurs to me, I lie back down, resting my arm over my eyes as I try to settle down again. Maybe there's a way to re-establish our working relationship. Or maybe just a way to be friends without the impossible expectations we seem to have created for each other. The question is how?


	6. Chapter 6

_Kathryn_

I can't sleep. No matter how much I toss and turn, the idea that I've treated him unfairly refuses to leave me alone. The more I think about it, the more wrong I feel, and I hate that more than almost anything in life. I don't necessarily have to be right all the time, but I have never liked being a person who's hurt another, intentionally or otherwise.

We're too intertwined now, and while I might be able to go through the motions if he left, my soul wouldn't be in it. I'd try and say that it'd only be the crew that would miss him, but I'd be lying to myself. There's no way I can function without him.

_Chakotay_

Just as I'm starting to fall back asleep again, the door chime sounds from the front room. Getting up and slipping on some pajama pants, I call out, "Come in," as I head into the living room.

Kathryn's shadow fills the doorway, and she hesitates a moment as she looks for me. Then once I appear she steps inside, just far enough to let the doors close behind her. "I'm sorry if I've been taking you for granted," she says quietly, her arms nervously clutched across the front of her robe. "It certainly wasn't my intention."

"I've never thought it was intentional," I assure her.

There's a sigh that fills the room, and it comes from both of us. We stand there in the darkness for a while, not knowing what else to say. Eventually she breaks the silence when she whispers, "Don't go."

"Never." Again, my mouth is ahead of my brain, spilling the truth before I can even decide what exactly that is. My answer catches me by surprise, as my resolution to stay on this ship and by her side has been flagging for some time. Hell, just a few hours ago, everything wrong in my life was her fault, and my feelings for her had eroded into nothing more than a tenuous friendship. But now I'm not so sure, and I wonder whether I've been fair to her. She carries a burden that I cannot know, that is light years above any I've ever had, and there might have been better ways to approach her. I don't regret what I've said, but I'm starting to feel bad for how I said it.

She looks small as she stands there, and I cannot, in all good conscience, leave her this way. Deciding that it's time to mend, I move to stand in front of her, noticing that she's so short now that she must be barefoot. She looks up at me as I gently take her hands in mine, giving them a small squeeze. "I'm sorry if I upset you, Kathryn, but I had to say it. I couldn't keep lying and acting as if everything was okay when it wasn't."

"I know you did. It's just that sometimes…I just get so buried in this job that – that it's hard to see anything but the end goal. And you always seem to get the short end of the stick because of it." I can see her eyes glistening in the dim light. "I'm sorry for that."

I can see genuine remorse there, and that she's much more vulnerable than she ever lets on. She's always so much bigger than life; I've forgotten that she can be this way just like anybody else. Seeing her like this reminds me of who I fell in love with years ago, and it seems to melt my resolve a little more. Not knowing what else to say, I go on instinct and pull her into my arms.

Her hands automatically rest on my back, cool against my skin as we stand there. Other than to protect her, I've never been able to do this, and I know the chances are slim that it will ever happen again. And that thought causes me a sudden pain. So I take the time to commit the feel of her to my memory, one that I can bring out to comfort myself in times where there seems to be nothing but hideousness around me. Despite all of our ups and downs, Kathryn is still one of the most important people in my life, and I wouldn't trade this for anything.

_Kathryn:_

It's been a long time since I've been held like this. Michael never does just this, but then he's so short that he'd have to stand on a box to get the same effect. And despite appearances, he still feels like a hologram. But this man is flesh and blood, and his heart beats under my ear as I rest my head against his chest. I never realized how much I need this. Or maybe I've just forgotten…or been in denial. It probably won't happen again – we don't have that sort of relationship anymore – but it's still a balm to my soul.

Eventually we pull back slightly so that we can look at each other again. I feel so bad, knowing that inattention and sheer stubbornness have led us to this point. "You are my right hand," I whisper, lifting a hand to hold his cheek, "and I don't ever want to have to make this journey without you." I only hope that he hears the meaning of my words, because the last thing I want to do is lose him.

_Chakotay:_

It's taken a few weeks of feeling underappreciated and one large fight, but I really do feel that she means it. "I promised you that I'd be here, and I meant it."

Relief seems to fill her, and she sags a little bit in my arms. "Please…promise me you'll tell me if you're unhappy. Or if I'm really not considering what you have to say. I don't ever want us to get to this point again."

"I promise." Then with an absolutely straight face, I add, "I guess we just need to work on our communication skills." This prompts a small smile from her, which makes me feel as if this has all been worth it.

She watches me for a few moments before quietly saying, "I should let you get some sleep." The hand on my cheek moves down to rest on my chest. "I'll see you in the morning?"

I nod and then let her go, watching as she walks back toward the door. For the first time in weeks, I feel as if we're actually on the same page again. As I crawl back into bed, I say a silent prayer of thanks for the dream that came to me tonight and helped me to see that while I had every right to feel what I've been feeling, I haven't been as flexible with her as I've thought I've been. At the same time though, I find my mind wandering back into familiar territory where Kathryn is concerned. The memory of her in my arms is stirring feelings that I thought I'd put to rest long ago, and now this last memory of her accompanies me as I drift off to sleep.

_Kathryn:_

In a way, I feel bereft of the heat of his body as I head back to my quarters, but I think that's because we just did something that's unusual for us. My heart still hurts from his accusations, but now I can see where he's coming from, and I resolve to make a better effort to listen to him more carefully in the future.

As I slip into bed, I can't help but wonder where we might be today if I made more frequent attempts to be open to him, or if we weren't living in this ridiculous situation and could have a normal relationship. But reflection is only torture, and by tomorrow I will not allow myself the luxury of it. Tonight though, as I lie in my bed drifting off to sleep, I cannot help but wonder what could have been.


End file.
